


Shy Girls: A Guide

by LandOfMistAndSecrets



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Fluff, Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Unspecified Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-03
Updated: 2020-09-03
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:42:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26261341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LandOfMistAndSecrets/pseuds/LandOfMistAndSecrets
Summary: It can't be harder than learning to fly.
Relationships: Dorothea Arnault/Ingrid Brandl Galatea
Comments: 4
Kudos: 50





	Shy Girls: A Guide

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EvilMuffins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/gifts).



> For @mikan_komaeda on Twitter - Thank you again! ❤

Ingrid practically practically rolled her way to the stables, stuffed full to the brim with spiced meat and hot cider, just the way she liked it. If she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, the faint pine smell of the mountains around Garreg Mach Monastery could have been from Galatea’s vast forested landscape, instead, and the winter chill in the air could have just passed for early autumn, her favorite time of year. Her family’s agricultural yields had always been poor, but mountains and forests made for good hunting in the season, sometimes -- and the boon seasons, such as they were, contained some of her happiest memories. 

She was humming under her breath by the time she ducked into the high line of stalls where they kept the pegasi. At this hour of the evening, the shadows fell long and dark, but Ingrid had spent more time in these stables than in her own room, so far, and she didn’t intend for that to change soon. 

There was one thing out of place, however. Singing, from a nearby stall.

Ingrid’s own humming trailed into a stuttered stop, and she felt heat climb into her cheeks. Damn. She knew that voice, and she knew as well that Dorothea was probably the _last_ person in the Officers Academy she’d want to catch her out like this. Her silly off-key humming couldn’t hold a candle to what Dorothea was capable of! 

Even her laughter was beautiful -- and Ingrid got an earful of it, of course, the moment she stopped humming in flustered confusion. 

While she was still reeling from that, searching for an explanation for her own embarrassment, a stall door swung wide, and Dorothea strode out, laughing still. 

“Oh, good!” she called, clapping her hands together. “I was afraid I’d miss your blushing.” 

Ingrid, of course, only blushed harder at that. Imagine, saying such things to another person! Out loud! 

“How could you possibly worry about missing my blushing?” she demanded. “You _always_ seem to be here when I do! In fact, you often seem to be the cause!” She folded her arms over her middle, suddenly and _keenly_ aware of the fact that she had roughly, oh, an _entire cow_ digesting in there as she spoke. “What are you doing here, anyway?” 

“ _Ingy,_ please,” Dorothea grinned, holding up one long, teasing finger and twirling it through her pretty curls. “Don’t think I didn’t notice how late you were leaving the dining hall, tonight. I thought your poor, poor pegasus might get lonely waiting for his midnight snack!” 

Ingrid gaped at her. “Have you been following me?” she demanded. 

“Like a love sick fool,” Dorothea sighed, and then she tipped back, letting her curls all slide back to accentuate her long, long neck, and pressed the back of one hand delicately against her forehead. “I have become hopelessly intoxicated by your sweetness, I’m afraid,” she sighed. 

“Mm hm,” Ingrid stammered. What was she _wearing?_ The fabric was so thin, so clingy -- was it her _nightdress?_ In the stables! She was really too much! “Let me guess. That’s a line from one of your productions.” 

Dorothea straightened her back and covered her mouth, giggling.

“Only one of the most famous arias ever sung on the stage,” she said. “Oh, Ingrid. Will I never interest you in the opera?” 

“I’ve told you more than once that I ... don’t find your singing objectionable.” 

“Not objectionable!” Dorothea gave her a _look._ “Such high praise. I’m all aflutter.” 

“You really shouldn’t say such things, if you’re aiming for a husband,” Ingrid warned her. She took a deep breath, and then strode forward, determined to perform the chores she’d arrived to do in the first place. “It’s not proper.” 

“Has anything about me ever said _proper_ , to you?” Dorothea challenged her, but Ingrid walked past without a word, ignoring her. She was blushing, again. _No,_ she thought, a bit sullenly. Not at all, never even once. That was part of the problem, wasn’t it?

Dorothea reached a hand out, just as Ingrid had known she would. _Hoped,_ a voice in her mind accused, and she shook her head, braid swinging behind her even as Dorothea’s fingers threaded with her own. 

“We really shouldn’t be meeting like this,” Ingrid said, but she could smell her perfume, this close -- strong, vibrant. Intoxicating. Worse than the hot cider warming her belly still. “You have no business here with the pegasi. You could really hurt yourself, if you don’t know how to handle them, and --” 

“Mm, I know,” Dorothea smiled, reaching forward to brush a lock of loose hair out of Ingrid’s face. “They’re shy girls, aren’t they? Luckily, I know a thing or two about how to handle shy girls.” 

“Do you, now!” Ingrid stammered, her voice climbing high. Her eyes lingered on Dorothea’s lips, the way they moved when she spoke. She’d never seen lipstick that color in all her life. She’d never seen a woman wear lipstick in a nightie before, either. 

In the stables. Holding her hand. Touching her hair. 

“I don’t know,” she squeaked. “You seem a little -- _aggressive.”_ She tried to pull her hand away, and found that Dorothea’s fingers held hers too tight to extricate them. “You see?” she accused, bringing their linked fingers up between them as though presenting evidence at trial. 

“Well, I have to hold on tight, Ingy, or you’ll chase me away!” Dorothea winked at her, and then she turned and swung their joined hands between them, striding forward and pulling Ingrid haltingly along after her. “See? I’m a quick learner. No need to worry.”

“Where are we going?” 

“You came to see the pegasi, didn’t you?” Dorothea blinked up at her, her eyes dark and beautiful in the shadows. “Well, so did I. Let’s go together, shall we?” 

“I came to _feed a pegasus,”_ Ingrid objected. “You make it sound so frivolous!” 

“Don’t act like you don’t enjoy it,” Dorothea said. “It makes you seem dishonest.”

Ingrid shut her mouth with a snap, surprised at how sharp the words were -- and how much they stung, too. Dorothea led her into the dark, secluded high walls of the stall she’d been singing in, and Ingrid’s heart took flight rather like a pegasus, itself. It was like walking into a trap, but… willingly! Wasn’t she? 

_Was_ she willing? 

Goddess -- willing to _what?_ What was the matter with her! 

Dorothea shot her a sly look. “You seem to be thinking very hard,” she observed, delicately. 

“The hay loft is the other way,” Ingrid said, but when Dorothea shut the door behind them, she didn’t protest. 

“You’re _right,_ ” Dorothea cooed. “Next time, let’s visit there together, shall we?” 

“The -- loft? And what exactly would we do, there? Hm?” 

“Well, I was thinking…” and she leaned in, the sweet scent of her perfume swirling around them, almost overpowering in the closed stall. Nearby, a pegasus made a faintly affronted sound, _whuffing_ in protest. Dorothea, of course, didn’t notice. 

Ingrid barely did, either. 

“Something like this,” Dorothea said, and her lips twisted into a mischievous smirk just seconds before she pressed their mouths together, quick and gentle and warm and sweet. 

Ingrid made a terrible sound, like a chicken that had just been tripped over. 

“ _Goddess,_ Dorothea!” she cried, backing away, flushing hot and crimson. Dorothea laughed and let her go, and Ingrid raised her fingers to her lips. They were _tingling._ Why were her lips tingling?! “You are a menace!” she cried, shooing her out. “Get out of here! You don’t even _have_ a pegasus! Go!” 

“I don’t need one of my own,” Dorothea said, perfectly calm. “I’d be happy to ride with you any day, darling.” 

“Out!” 

And she went, laughing all the while. 

But of course, Ingrid’s lips continued tingling, long after she was gone.


End file.
